


King

by redcandle17



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Crossdressing, F/F, Genderplay, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:05:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/pseuds/redcandle17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to a gift from Taena, Cersei is able to experience what it's like to be a man. Set after ADwD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	King

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt "Cersei/Taena. Pegging. In the depths of the night, after lots of wine, Cersei dresses in some old clothes of Jaime's. She's King Cersei now."

Three moons had passed and still there was no word from Jaime. Rumors abounded, of course. He’d been hanged by outlaws, he’d been spotted in the Vale, he’d gone east to kill Daenerys Targaryen, he’d gone north to take the black, he’d fallen in love with a peasant girl and settled down to life as a farmer - each new rumor was more absurd than the last. The only thing Cersei knew for sure was that her twin was alive. She’d know if he was dead; she’d feel it. 

She missed him so badly. She needed him to hold her at night and keep the nightmares at bay, for they plagued her worse than ever. She dreamt not only of Tyrion murdering her children and strangling her, but also of her walk of penance and the King’s Landing mob. In the queen’s nightmares, the mob was not content to jeer and hurl filth at her. In her nightmares, they took hold of her body and tore her apart. 

One night she’d had Myrcella and Tommen share her bed, thinking she’d rest easy with her babes about her. But the nightmares had still come. She’d woken terrified and frightened the children. She did continue to insist, however, that Tommen and Myrcella sleep in the same bed chamber, so that Ser Robert Strong could protect them both. 

The champion Qyburn had made for her was her only source of security these days. Cersei trusted no one. White cloaks, red cloaks, gold cloaks - they were all useless, if not traitors and assassins-in-waiting themselves. How else could her uncle and the grand maester have been murdered right here in the Red Keep without anyone knowing anything?

Cersei turned away from the window and poured herself another cup of wine. Would that she could order Ser Robert to slaughter Margaery and Mace and the rest. He could do it; none could stop him. Alas, her rule was too fragile to survive without Tyrell swords. By the High Septon’s own edict, Cersei was innocent of treason, adultery, and murder; Ser Robert had proved it when he cut Lancel in half from neck to loin. But the Faith still dared to make demands of her. They wanted the crown’s loans repaid and, paradoxically, the fools wanted her to lower taxes. 

There was a chest of clothing not her own at the foot of her bed. Cersei unlocked it. She withdrew a tunic and breathed deep, inhaling Jaime’s scent. She’d seen the way they looked at her when she commanded Jaime’s things brought to her chamber, and she knew it would fuel the rumors of their incest. She didn’t care. No one would dare accuse her of anything now, not with Ser Robert’s great sword ready to defend her. Poor substitute that it was, Cersei took the tunic to bed with her and drew what comfort she could from it. 

The next day was a good one. Lord Orton Merryweather and his Myrish wife, Taena, arrived back at court. The first thing Cersei had done upon resuming the regency was summon them back, and while she wondered at how long it had taken them to answer her summons, she was happy to see them. Taena was her only friend, and Orton would assist her in rebuffing the Tyrell grasp for power, even if he didn’t know it yet. 

Cersei had briefly considered reinstating him as Tommen’s Hand, but she’d decided against it. He was simply not made of stern enough stuff; he’d proven that when he’d resigned and fled home after her arrest. And she needed to use that post against Mace Tyrell. The Fat Flower was not happy to be demoted from Hand of the King to mere adviser on the Small Council, and Cersei aimed to make him even unhappier. She enjoyed watching the Dornishwoman Nymeria Sand needle him during council sessions, though she was not foolish enough to think she could trust the bastard. Lady Nym, as they called her, was the daughter of Oberyn Martell, who’d defended Tyrion and delayed justice long enough for Tyrion to escape and murder their lord father. 

It was watching Lady Nym’s sly insults and Mace’s fat face turning purple in impotent outrage that inspired Cersei to offer Doran Martell the post of Hand of the King. Qyburn assured her that Martell was in failing health and would never venture from Dorne, but the long weeks it took for ravens to fly back and forth between King’s Landing and Sunspear would buy her time to find an acceptable Hand. 

“I’ve brought you a gift,” Taena told her that evening. 

“Indeed you have,” Cersei replied, smiling at the Myrish woman. They were dining in the queen’s chambers, just the two of them, and Cersei hadn’t felt this light in a long time. Taena was not Jaime, but she was someone Cersei could trust and whose company she could enjoy.

Taena laughed, and it was the sort of low, throaty laugh that reminded Cersei of the way she’d moaned the night Cersei took her rights with her. Cersei thought of inviting Taena to share her bed and taking her rights again, but no. She was repulsive now and she wouldn’t force Taena to hide her disgust as Cersei had been forced to hide her disgust when Robert came to her bed in later years. 

“Your Grace is kind.” Taena reached beneath her skirts for something strapped to her leg. “But I meant this. I’m sorry I could not present it properly, but you’ll understand the need for secrecy.” She unfolded the black linen her gift was wrapped in, and placed it on the table between them. 

Cersei stared. It was a phallus, one of such length and girth that even Robert would have been envious. She touched it gingerly. It was made of supple leather stuffed with soft padding around a hard core of, perhaps, wood. There were leather straps attached to it that reminded her of the straps used to secure armor onto men. Cersei thought she understood its purpose: it was a cock fit for a queen. 

“I hope it - and I - can bring Your Grace much pleasure.” 

Cersei wanted to put it on right away, but that would have been unseemly. “It is certainly the most interesting gift I have ever been given.” Plenty of men had sought to gift Cersei their cocks, but never had she expected to receive one of her own. She’d heard of such things used in brothels; how she could not, with a lecher like Robert for a husband and a lecher like Tyrion for a brother. But she had never seen one before. It was as powerful as any sword and more alluring. “Thank you, my lady.” She left the phallus there on the table while they ate, though she rewrapped it with the black cloth so the servants would not see it. 

They feasted on creamy broth, a leafy salad drizzled with honey, roasted quail, and blackberry tarts, and washed it all down with a sweet Arbor red of excellent vintage. Cersei savored every bite and every sip, remembering the hard bread and tasteless porridge she’d been fed during her imprisonment. She savored even more Taena’s gossip and barbed observations about her fellow courtiers. 

Taena seemed surprised and even disappointed when Cersei dismissed her after the meal, much to the queen’s pleasure. “Perhaps another night Your Grace will permit me the honor and pleasure of sharing your bed, as you used to.” 

The High Septon might have shorn her and shamed her before the whole city, but she was still desirable to the Myrish beauty. Cersei went to bed happy. 

_”Whore!”_

_Something soft and wet hits her in the back. She desperately hopes it’s nothing worse than rotten fruit._

_“Look how her teats hang down like udders.”_

_She steps on a small, sharp stone. She knows her feet will be bloody by the time she reaches the Red Keep._

_“Come away, Pate. Nothing to see but an old whore; a dozen a copper those are in Flea Bottom.”_

Cersei was relieved to wake before the dream turned uglier. She rose and paced between her bed and the window. She knew from experience that if she went back to sleep right away, the dream would continue. There was a flagon of wine kept in her chamber at all times. The queen poured herself a cup and brooded on the wrongs she’d suffered. She wasn’t sorry that her uncle had met the fate he had. Kevan could have fought the High Septon, he could have spared her the humiliation of having to walk naked through the city. He’d wanted her punished because of his stupid son, Lancel, that fool who’d claimed he’d do anything to get between her legs and then proved too weak to live with it. 

And there was the whole of the Faith. Robert’s whoring had been no secret, yet had any of those holy septons ever so much as rebuked the king? Men fucked whoever they wanted with impunity. It was not fair. It had never been fair. Being the queen meant little when she could so easily be treated like the lowest of whores. This, this was as high as a woman could ascend and still she could be stripped naked and called a whore by the whole bloody city. Cersei had never hated being a woman more. 

The wine was gone before she realized it, and she had to wake her maid and send her to fetch another flagon. If only she had been born the man and Jaime the woman. Jaime, her sweet Jaime. Cersei sniffed the tunic she’d slept with, but Jaime’s scent was gone. She crouched by the chest of clothing and rifled through it, sniffing and discarding item after item. At the very bottom was the gift Taena had given her, the leather phallus. 

Cersei pulled her sleeping shift over her head and tossed it aside. After a false start, she figured out where the straps were supposed to go and suddenly she had a cock. It jutted from her loins magnificently. Cersei wrapped her hand around it and stroked it. When she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the caress on her flesh. She knew what she had to do then. 

She found a strip of cloth and bound her breasts tight against her chest. Then she dressed herself in Jaime’s clothes. Smallclothes, breeches, tunic, and his light summer cloak, all of pure white silk. Her hair was growing back, but it was still shorter than how most men wore their hair. When she looked into the mirror, if her reflection was not Jaime, it was at least a passable imitation of him, much like Lancel had been. 

Her maid chose that moment to return with the wine. The girl’s eyes were wide as saucers and she would not stop staring at Cersei. Cersei wondered what the girl would do were she to bend her over and fuck her right there and then. She wondered if she’d squeal happily, like so many serving girls had for Robert. 

Cersei snatched the flagon from her. “Go to Lady Merryweather and tell her the queen commands her immediate presence.”

That second flagon of wine was almost empty by the time Taena Merryweather entered the queen’s bed chamber. If the Myrish woman was surprised to see Cersei dressed as a man, she did not show it. “Your Grace, my lord husband was much alarmed by your summons. He fears the castle is under attack.”

Cersei could not care less what Orton Merryweather feared. “I will be your lord tonight, woman.”

“I am yours, my lord,” Taena murmured huskily. 

Cersei seized a handful of that thick black hair and yanked Taena’s head back so she could claim her mouth in a brutal kiss. Cersei had perfected the art of kissing with Jaime, long before she flowered, but she was not really interested in kissing Taena. She wanted to devour her breath; wanted to force Taena to have to accept her tongue in her mouth because there was no way she could keep Cersei out. 

Taena was perfectly dressed, as if she hadn’t been roused from her bed in the middle of the night, and Cersei took delight in ripping open her bodice. The room was warm, but Taena’s dark nipples immediately formed peaks. Cersei licked and suckled them with relish, before biting down hard. Taena cried out wordlessly, but she didn’t protest or try to push Cersei away. Cersei was the king and Taena’s body was hers to do with as she pleased. 

“Oh, yes, my lord,” Taena moaned, when Cersei bit her again. “In Myr, women are known to have their nipples pierced with needles so that they might wear gold rings through them. Would Your Grace like to see me thus pierced?”

Cersei imagined Taena enduring such erotic suffering and pictured how she’d look with those rings. The need between her legs seemed to grow tenfold. “I’d like to see you on your back with your legs spread,” she said. 

Taena obeyed her. She arranged herself on the bed with her skirts pulled up to her waist and her legs spread wide, surrendering her cunt to Cersei. 

Cersei opened the front of her breeches to expose her cock. She approached the bed slowly, hoping the sight of her formidable cock would strike fear into Taena’s heart. She was annoyed when Taena fingered herself, as if eager to be fucked. She raised up Taena’s legs and rested them on her shoulders. She could fuck her harder from behind, but this way she’d be able to watch her face. 

_This is what it feels like to be a king,_ Cersei thought, as she forced her cock into Taena. Taena let out a long, low moan. Her eyes were glazed with pleasure and she was kneading her breasts. She had taken every inch of Cersei’s cock. Cersei kissed her roughly, revelling in the feeling of owning the woman completely. 

“Fuck me, my lord,” Taena whispered, when the kiss had ended. Cersei wanted to slap her. She did not command the king. 

Cersei kept her cock firmly lodged all the way inside her cunt, but she did not fuck her. She kissed and bit at her neck, determined to leave love marks there that would be visible to all tomorrow. Let Orton Merryweather wonder who had fucked his wife. Let the court know Taena for the wanton slut she was. Cersei twisted both of her nipples simultaneously. Taena writhed and ground her cunt on the cock that impaled it, trying to fuck herself. 

“Beg,” Cersei commanded.

“Please, my lord,” Taena begged, “I beg you, fuck me. Fuck me, please.”

Cersei pushed Taena’s thighs forward against the front of her body and grasped the back of her knees for leverage. Then she began to fuck Taena. It felt so right. Cersei had never felt such power, such triumph; not the day they placed the queen’s crown on her head, not the day Robert died, never. Taena moaned and cried out encouragement, but Cersei hammered at her in silence. 

Taena reached the heights of pleasure again and again, but Cersei did not stop. Finally, Taena settled down and was quiet. Cersei knew her cunt had to be sore by now. She kept fucking her. Her own pleasure was building, slowly but exquisitely. She shoved her cock as deep as she could into Taena and then loosened the straps just enough so that she could rub herself against it. 

“YES!” For a moment Cersei saw the faces of the gods. Even Jaime had never taken her to such heights. She laid atop Taena, and Taena wrapped her arms around her. Cersei kissed her cheek. “Thank you.” Taena had given her the means of taking a king’s pleasure. She would forever be grateful. 

“I want only your happiness and pleasure, Your Grace. My heart is yours, and my body is yours, too.”

Cersei was unsettlingly reminded of the sweet lies she’d whispered to Lancel and the others. Was Taena using her body against her as Cersei had used hers? No, that was ridiculous. Cersei was not a man, to be led by her cock. She unbuckled the straps and left the phallus buried within Taena. 

The army she’d commanded her cousin Daven to raise should reach King’s Landing any day now. She’d see the city rid of pious vermin, and while she might not be able to make open war on the Faith, she could keep the High Septon penned in his sept, a prisoner in all but name. They’d see what Cersei Lannister could do, as soon as she had her army.

“It is not right that Tyrell continues to cower here while the Targaryen impostor holds Storm’s End,” Taena said. The press of her breasts against the queen’s back prevented Cersei from pretending it was Jaime holding her, but the embrace felt good nonetheless. “Storm’s End belongs to your son; the Baratheon seat should be held by none but the rightful Baratheon heir.”

Tommen had the Red Keep and Myrcella would follow her as Lady of Casterly Rock, but Cersei had every intention of keeping Storm’s End within the family as well. It would pass to Tommen’s younger son eventually. But her grandchildren would not be borne by Margaery Tyrell; Cersei would see Margaery dead or her marriage dissolved before Tommen was old enough to sire children. She needed to think of a suitable bride for her son.

“If you sent your army to retake Storm’s End, the glory would be yours, Your Grace. You would expose Mace Tyrell as the grasping coward he is.”

She wanted her army in the city with her, but they could wrest Storm’s End back before camping in King’s Landing. It should not be difficult for a host of westermen to overthrow a company of sellswords. Cersei liked the idea the more she thought about it. She’d prove to the realm that she was bolder than the Tyrells. They were opportunistic parasites, descended from an upjumped steward. She was a lioness of the Rock and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. After she’d driven away the Targaryen pretender and his mercenaries, when she stood triumphant with her army behind her, the realm would forget about her walk of shame.

“It’s good to have your counsel,” she told Taena. 

“It’s good to have your ear,” Taena whispered, her breath hot in the queen’s ear. Undoubtedly she wanted more lands and honors for her lord husband, for her son to inherit. Cersei did not mind. Taena had earned much and more.

“I sleep poorly these days,” Cersei warned her. “I may wake you during the night, and more than once.”

“I do not mind,” Taena replied, “As long as you promise to take me again, _my lord_.”

Cersei wanted to take her again, just hearing her say that. “Oh, I will. I’ll take you often - and hard.”

The Myrish woman helped her to strap on her cock and the queen mounted her for a second time. Dawn was a long way off and Cersei would not subject herself to bad dreams when she could instead spend the hours fucking Taena.


End file.
